


Crazed Continuum

by ShianneUrami



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Altered Mental States, Blood, God Tier, Mental Instability, evil!Karkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShianneUrami/pseuds/ShianneUrami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes your friends become Gods. Sometimes Godhood makes them crazy. And sometimes you have to help them to keep yourself alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazed Continuum

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Shubbabang on tumblr and her crazy idea of, 'what if being a mutant, Karkat's Knight of Blood status made him crazy.'

A staggered laugh, breathy and edged with insanity. Incomplete. He’s not all there right now. He hasn’t been for a while. Thankfully bleeding out from self inflicted wounds is not heroic or just. So the curved slices in his arms, red curling from the wounds in whips and whisps is of no concern. What the concern is, is the leer cracked across his face. The absolutely shithive maggots grin as he’s advancing through the corridors towards you. You stand frozen, staring because, this… isn’t Karkat. Not anymore.

A few sharp breaths, laughter you guess, his smile falters. He plasters it on even bigger than before, you can almost see his gums his lips are stretched so far. “Missed you.” His voice is quiet, unexpectedly weak from the energy he seems to have. Karkat is quiet and you can see him calculating every single move in his head, like the good leader he is. He keeps walking towards you, one of the tendrils lashing out to slice your cheek. Your blood bubbles to the surface, trickling down your face and he smiles, “Such a beautiful color.”

Your breath hitches when you see your own blood staining your fingers. You made the mistake of looking away from him and when you look back up, he’s nearly breathing down your neck. You can hear the wheezing rasp in the back of his throat, and when his controlled aspect curls back, you brace for the hit. It stabs just above your shoulder, a fluke. His hand is on your face then, holding your jaw painfully tight. “You’d help me won’t you? Give me a new color to play with? We /are/ still friends, right?”

You want to tell him yes, that of course you’re still friends. But you hit God Tier when he did, which wasn’t long ago at all, and your pan is a mess right now. All you can hear is voices urging you to run. To run from the doom. Run from this Knight. Sometimes you see it, the stain of death on a place. Or the foreboding cloud looming over a battleground. Skaia’s not a sight anymore. It’s desolate and barren, dark and hopeless. At least in your eyes. Finding the good in all the gloom has been hard lately. But you never thought that this, this troll before you would ever be like this! This just isn’t right. He’s crazy!

The crimson coils slick across your skin, wet and warm. You know they’re leaving trails of that thick red blood across your face and all you can do is stare at him. This isn’t Karkat anymore, so what are you still doing? Standing here gaping at the friend you used to know. The friend who’s currently not even in his own pan enough to realize that if he tries to kill you, it won’t matter. You’re the same level as him. But that doesn’t make the imminent death hovering over your head any less scary.

“KK, don’t do thith.”

You can hear your own voice echoing back at you, mingled with the voices urging you fruitlessly to run. To escape. To fight him. Do anything but stand there!

“KK, pleath-”

“Please what Sollux? What is it that you want from your great and just leader?” He asks, digging his claws into your face.

You cry out and try to squirm away from him, reflexive sparks leaping from the edges of your eyes. You don’t want to fight him. You can see the black shrouding him. He’s doomed. If you fight back, you might kill him. Eliminate a broken mind, a tainted God. It seemed just to you. And that’s why you couldn’t do it. You were friends. You couldn’t kill him.

There is suddenly a hand on your throat, pressing down, making each inhale a sharp wheeze. His smile slips and his face falls, stoic and blank. His voice is level, to the point it’s almost unrecognizable. Just like the rest of him.

“I asked you a question Captor. Please what?”

He squeezes again and you choke out, “Thtop thith!”

Karkat lifts you up off the ground, some newfound strength driving him. Your claws scramble for purchase along his stupid blood pajamas, ripping and tearing them, the edges of your world going dark. You do break skin, spilling that red, red blood. But it slides down his arm, snakes into the air and joins the rest of the tendrils poised around him in an almost hypnotic dance and display of power.

He doesn’t even flinch, you spark and claw and growl at him, begging him not to do this. But you can’t bring yourself to do what needs to be done to stop him. You just can’t do it.

When his sickle drops from his sylladex, you freeze.

When you realize it’s dripping colors you recognize, your blood runs cold.

When Karkat slams you back into the wall, your head crashing into the metal, you almost black out.

And when he holds the blade to your exposed throat, just above his hand, you stop breathing.

Killing intent and blood lust shadow his eyes. You stop fighting him. You just stop. You give up. He’s going to kill you and take your blood and you don’t know if that means you’ll revive or not, but there’s not a damn thing you can do. You can beg and cry and spark and hope that it will do something, but you are too weak to kill him like he’s killed others. You’re not fit to be a God, merciful and limitless.

You go limp and hope you black out before he pulls the blade. You don’t want to feel the pain.

But he doesn’t move.

Karkat just watches you, blade still poised, a very thin borderline between life and death. The threshold is in his hand. And doesn’t make a move either way. His voice is cracked when he speaks up though,

“You can help me.”

A please smile spreads, not quite holding the same deranged edge from before. Like, genuine bliss in this realization. He drops you suddenly and you almost don’t catch yourself with your psionics before you faceplant into the floor. You settle down, coughing and hacking, knowing you’re going to have bruises for a while. Before you sit up you rub at your sore throat, blinking at the stars in your eyes.

When you sit up he’s pacing and mumbling something under his breath. Every few turns he stops, the blood tracing lines through the air, like he’s working out some big complex math problem. Karkat whips around to face you, a snarl and no smile,

“You can help me!”

You cough one last time before croaking, “Help you /what/ KK?”

“Mage of Doom Sollux Captor. You who knows who’s going to fucking keel over and when. You can see it around them, or around here. You know you’re not going to die, but you know when others can’t run from it. Why should I waste my time with a chase when you can just tell me who’s destined to fall to my blade next? It makes so much sense!”

He’s talking fast and talking loud and that’s not all that different than the Vantas you knew, but the excitement to his voice is unmistakable and makes your guts twist.

“Why?” You ask, propping yourself against the wall, wincing as you pin one of your wings.

“Why what?” He stops his pacing to stare down at you.

“Why do you want my help? You can beat any of them alone. You don’t really need me.”

A sharp laugh, shaking his head, “Oh Sollux. I’m trying to help you here. If I need you, you stay alive for a while. You get to keep that gorgeous gold in your veins instead of giving it all to me. In hindsight I think convincing Kanaya that I’m right would be easier. Can you imagine that little Rainbow Drinker by my side? A proper moirail. I give her what she needs, the blood of our friends, and she gives me her support and assistance with that nasty chainsaw. Rend them all asunder. Come on Sollux, you can’t say that doesn’t sound line fun!”

All you can do is stare at him. He really is crazy.

You have two choices at this point. Defy him and die, maybe for good. Or join him and help him kill others. In the end of option two though, you have a feeling he’s going to get tired of you eventually. Crave that sweet color. And if that were the case, all you did was prolong your own life while helping a madtroll kill your friends. How the hell was that even fair?

An irritated sigh pulls you out of your own head. His arms are crossed over his chest, the sickle in his hand smearing a rainbow across his arm. He’s already got so many colors. Who could be left? Unless he’s killing alternatives…

“I’m waiting Sollux.”

You make eye contact and you don’t know this troll. You don’t know who you are looking at anymore.

“You want me to help you kill otherth?”

“Now he gets it!” Karkat throws his arms up, half turning away. He spins back around, the fire in his eyes again, a long smile on his lips, “It’s not so hard Captor. Really easy. You tell me what is clouded in Doom, and I’ll take it out. Put the troll out of it’s misery. And if it’s not shrouded in darkness, then I’ll wait and save it for later. Savor it.”

“How… do you know I won’t lie to you?” You test the waters.

He shakes his head, ripples of blood around him wavering, a low rumble of laughter in his chest. Karkat stops, grinning at you.

“We both know you wouldn’t lie to your best friend Sollux, don’t be ridiculous.”


End file.
